


Paper Boats

by Elfgrunge



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: But also Tim and Sasha are alive so, Fluff, It's the wholesome wedding fic we all need, M/M, References to the Institute and the Beholding and stuff, Timeline??? Don't know her, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 14:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfgrunge/pseuds/Elfgrunge
Summary: ‘Jonathan Sims, did you just propose to me?’‘Well, Martin Blackwood, I believe you did first.’A story in snippets





	Paper Boats

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song of the same name, from my favourite game Transistor

‘Is it kind of stupid that I really want to marry you right now?’

They’re lying on the sofa, Jon’s head on Martin’s shoulder, the cat draped unceremoniously across their laps, watching some film they’ve seen a million times but Martin so adores, so Jon lets him put it on again and again.

Jon chokes slightly, sitting up. This does not deter the cat in it’s quest to nap.

Martin panics, leaning forward to take Jon’s hand, then thinking better of it and letting go.

‘Well that was-’

‘Stupid. Yeah. Sorry, I shouldn’t have- I just-’

‘-I was going to say _sudden_. Unexpected is maybe a better choice of words.’ His voice softens, taking Martin’s hand back. ‘Certainly not stupid.’

Martin’s breath hitches. ‘It’s just… It never really seemed like an us thing, you know? Not that you wouldn’t make an excellent husband,’ - both their faces flush at that, and Martin trains his eyes on the floor - ‘but just between all the, the fear, the entities, the constant threat of the end of the world … I never really thought we’d get the chance.’

Jon runs his thumb along Martin’s knuckles, unsure which of the two he’s even trying to calm. ‘Well. We do now, I suppose. Have time. I never really thought myself the marrying sort, but I suppose I could be convinced. If you’ll have me.’

Martin looked up, grinning now, still anxious and red cheeked but smile wide and giddy. ‘Jonathan Sims, did you just propose to me?’

‘Well, Martin Blackwood, I believe you did first.’

‘Semantics,’ Martin whispered, leaning over to kiss his fiancé.

* * *

Georgie dragging him by the sleeve from shop to shop was not Jon’s ideal way to spend a Saturday, but these are the things we do for love, he supposed. 

‘Well what colour is _his_ suit going to be?’ she eventually said, more than a little exasperated. He was on the sixth suit of the day, and while she insisted he looked, quote,  ‘As dashing as _you’re_ capable, at least’, he wasn’t happy.

‘I already said, he won’t tell me,’ Jon sulked, ‘he said he wants to keep at least some tradition to it, whatever that means.’

‘And you can’t just,’ Georgie made a wiggly hand gesture that Jon wasn’t quite sure he appreciated, ‘look? Or know or whatever it is you do?’

‘Georgina, I’m not even married to the man yet and you want to give him grounds for divorcing me? No.’ Then, quieter, ‘... God I hope it’s not tweed. I am not marrying a man in tweed, he’ll look like Elias.’

She laughed, then paused, tilting her head sideways to look at him and squinting. ‘We should try grey. Matches your eyes.’

Jon scowled, ‘I’m pretty sure eyes are the thing I want to think about least right now.’

Georgie gave an apologetic grimace, ‘Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words. Trust me though, you’ll look great, positively princely.’

He laughed at that, letting himself be led towards the next pile of waistcoats , ‘Are you sure you don’t still have feelings for me?’

‘And steal you away from pining lover boy? Never.’

* * *

 ‘What if we have it in Bournemouth?’

Jon looked up from his book. Martin was leaning against a wall nearby, trying his hardest, and failing, to look casual.

‘Have what?’ Jon replied, mind entirely drawing a blank.

‘The.. You know,’ Martin trailed off. Even after a few weeks, he was still reluctant to talk about it directly, almost as if he was scared if he did, the spell would be broken and it wouldn’t be real. Quiet, nervous, ‘The wedding.’

Jon smiled softly at that. It was… Cute, how he spoke of it with such fragile care. ‘Bournemouth? Why? Have you ever even been to Bournemouth?’

‘Well, no,’ he replied sheepishly, ‘but you’re from there, thought it was kinda weird we’d never been.’

Jon put the book down. ‘I mean it’s not particularly interesting. It’s not exactly like I’m overly fond of the place.’

‘Cheaper venue than London, though.’

Jon paused. ‘Valid point.’

‘And…’ Martin was quiet again, hesitance slipping back into his voice, ‘I’ve always kind of liked the whole summer beach wedding idea. Maybe not the actual thing, bit sandy, but a reception there would be… nice, I think.’

Jon tried to compose himself into not melting on the spot. ‘I hardly think I can refuse you that, then,’ voice betraying the love that shone in his eyes.

‘Really? Didn’t really think you’d be into the whole fancy venue thing,’

Jon scoffed, though tone still adoring, ‘A big party isn’t exactly my style, no, but I don’t think I’m quite capable of denying you your dream, then.’

Martin practically threw himself onto the sofa next to Jon, arms wrapping around him. ‘You’re really too good to me, you know that? No, no big party, agreed. And I’ll let you choose the.. The flowers, or something. Well, no, you should get more say than that, it’s your wedding too.. Our wedding.. _Our wedding-’_

‘Peonies,’ Jon said, cutting him off. As much as he loved him, he could tell he was spiralling down a tangent.

‘What? Peonies, really?’

‘Yes. They’re my favourite. The pink ones, that get darker on the outer petals. My grandmother had them in her garden.’

‘I didn’t even know you had a favourite flower. Okay then. Peonies it is.’

* * *

Martin fiddled with his cufflink, anxiety gnawing a hole in his stomach. He was pacing the hotel room now, checking every few minutes his speech was definitely still in his pocket, and hadn’t escaped somewhere. Seems like something that would happen to him.

Tim clapped him on the shoulder, stopping him in place. ‘Look, just. Breath. Relax. You’re gona be fine. Georgie’s outside, getting it all in order, and Sasha’s five feet behind her with a list at all times. You’re gona go out there, be sappy as hell, read your pompous excuse for a boyfriend some poetry, and make him your pompous excuse for a husband.’

Martin stopped, took his advice, breathed in, out, ‘I can do this.’

‘I don’t think I should even ask if you’re having second thoughts at this stage,’ Tim said, and the glare from Martin reaffirmed that. ‘Yeah. And if you’re worried about it, I can say with confidence that he absolutely isn’t either.’

Martin laughed, brushing Tim’s hand off. ‘I know. I’m an absolute catch.’

‘You’re an absolute catch that’s going to miss his own wedding if you don’t move. C’mon.’

* * *

They’re laughing, when they finally start making their way up the stairs. Despite never leaving each others side, it’s the first time they’d been alone all day. 

‘I did not expect Daisy of all people to get that tipsy that quickly,’ Jon said, still clutching his husband’s hand. _His husband_. He knew he’d said Martin made too big of a deal about it before but now… Now he understood. They’d both made it through this, everything the Institute had thrown at them, together. And that wasn’t going to change. 

‘I mean, at least she’s a clingy drunk, Basira seemed like she can handle her. I do not want to know what a drunk Hunter looks like,’ Martin laughed.

They reached their door, and Martin stopped abruptly.

‘Please don’t tell me you forgot the room card,’ Jon said, but he couldn’t keep any annoyance to his tone.

‘No, no, no, I have it,’ said Martin, pulling the card out from his pocket. He drummed his fingers along the smooth plastic, a nervous tic expressed there in an attempt to keep it off his face. ‘It’s stupid, but-’

Jon wished he would stop saying that. At that moment, Jon didn’t think he was capable of not adoring a single thing the man did.

‘-Can I do the whole.. ‘Carry you over the threshold’ thing?’

Martin was right, that was kind of stupid. He also found it entirely and utterly charming. He nodded.

It was incredibly awkward, neither having enough alcohol in their systems to make complex motor functions impossible, but enough that from an outside perspective it was probably pretty funny. Jon only smacked his legs off the doorframe twice, arms wrapped tight around Martin’s shoulders.

They were laughing again by the time they fell onto the bed, rumpling the pristine hotel sheets.

Jon sighed, relishing in the atmosphere of the moment. It was possibly the happiest he’d ever been. ‘I love you. I love you so much. You know that, right?’

‘I should hope so, considering what just happened,’ Martin said, eyes crinkled in the corners and grin plastered on his face, ‘You’re stuck with me now,’ he tapped the ring.

Jon thought he could definitely live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as radiosandrecordings if you wana be Soft over these two and a happy ending....


End file.
